There are times when I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do than tell jokes for a living. I was back on the road yesterday and this time there was no snow, just palm trees gently swaying on either side of the freeway as Vargus Mason and me made our way to the San Diego Comedy store. We stopped off in East L.A. because we like to keep it real and get down with the people, well actually it was because there was a Subway sign and we were hungry, but you know Vargus and me are a bit gangsta, the African American from Denver, Colorado who believes if he was any more white he’d be speaking in Shakepearean English and…me, an actual Englishman. Ok, we got out of East L.A. pretty quick.
Being a comedian can be a lonely life, you drive all day, on your own, then hit the stage on your own and then go back to your hotel room, on your own. So yesterday was a real treat, two comics shooting the breeze on the journey between L.A. and San Diego and then…the comedy store, La Jolla has a beach condo for the comics to hang out in so we watched the sun go down – how romantic. No I don’t think of Vargus like that, I don’t care if laughter is an aphrodisiac, we’re happily married gentlemen. But it was a beautiful moment.
Of course, the glamour continued as Vargus was producing and I was running the box office, so at the comedy store I became the shop keeper in the cubby hole, explaining to distressed audience members that it was “cash only” and that we couldn’t process credit cards “what kind of joint are you running”…”you’re running this like comediands”…well, thank you. Always great to get the big build up before you get on stage, but have to address reality, “yes, I was in the world series two years running and yes, I was your doorman tonight”…I’m the immigrant doing the jobs Americans won’t do…the middle set of a two hour show.